Monday 21st November
Sage shows me his killing moves this morning. 8.15am, twenty orks done for, at least.
We can sleep tonight.
9.30am. The moon and I danced with the chi this morning, on the sparkling crunchy grass. Watched by a curious robin, coming closer every day. I get to about the tenth round of commencement before the smile is just radiating all over my face. It's like living in poetry.
Coincidence of Kate singing lyrics about standing on a hill, "It was just so beautiful, it was just so beautiful. It was just so bea-ooo-ti-full.
I add 'Painting Rainbows' today, nine to each side is enough. On the crest of the rainbow, the moon peaks between my hands like the ultimate ball of chi as I smoothly sway from side to side, heel up, heel down, breath in, breath out.
The geese fly across the moon in a huge V, the frost sparkling as the sun beams stronger, not to be outdone. In this timeless moment. Peace. Joy. Serenity.
I started wondering how I'll go back to my life when it dawns on me, I'm right in it. This is my life.
And I'm the luckiest gal I know.
I walk past the blue smoking shed and foodie, who has the license, is firing it up. Smell of Findhorn in the smoke.
"What are you smoking today?
"Hot smoked salmon, although I prefer cold smoked myself.
I smile and nod like I know what the difference is, and carry on with my walk.
In the afternoon, I explore new territory - the lower field. It has a wee hill down to it that seemed risky before now, but today I'm feeling adventurous. The path winds round through nettles and tall weeds, until suddenly the burn is tinkling. It's brimful of snowmelt and running fast. Deep brown and peaty in parts. It sounds like music. The path follows it round to a wee rapid, where it is joined by another tributary and the dual water bulbs up like glass orbs before cracking over the rocks into white spray.
I'm low down now, below the maze, below the road and can look the cows almost in the eye. I wave and four of them come towards me and look face to face all in a row, over the fence. The four cows of the apocalypse.
They are tan and white, have pink noses and are surprisingly large. I think that the first people to keep them must have been quite brave to approach them really. Or bored and looking for some thrills. Cow taming was probably quite big at one time. Roll up, roll up, Thrills and spills. Beat the bovine.
They look gentle but stupid. I prefer sheep. I wave again and walk on. The path curls back around itself, past an alder and lovely sycamores, a carpet of yellow leaves on the ground. The loop closing on itself back where the two burns meet. Good place to bury treasure.
I come back up, a full circuit around the polytunnel and we're off to pick up the sage from school and a big day out in Alford.
Coffee and cake in the Alford bistro, where I'm tickled pink to read that you can actually purchase a haggis toasty.
If the notion took you.
Too bad everybody around here is veggie. Great coffee and chocolate cake though. We did purchase those. Veggie option - chocolate cake.
Then fantastic conversation like what makes a metal magnetic, what is lasagne (Sage - "Something you eat"), and why do you have to send your letter to Santa up the chimney, why not just post it? (Coz it's quicker and gives you a heat).
As the sage finishes his cake, he looks like a pirate with his chocolate beard and moustache and stands up on his chair, snuggling kisses to his mum's face. They are like a lioness and cub, that gentle strong connection, nuzzling each other. I feel like an intruder. They are adorable together.
The chemist in Alford is fabulous. You can buy sweet almond oil for 39p, and if ever you needed a flesh-coloured eye patch or a spectacle repair kit, that's the place to go. Hats, scarves, bath cubes - who knew they still made them - ornaments in the shape of shoes, sparkly hair bands, toe clippers, those lethal things to trim your hair, bin bags, Christmas bobbles, fibre optic Christmas trees, slipper socks and vile nail varnish. String and coloured blue tack (wish I'd bought some of that). Better than Woolworth's.
We come out to go home and the sky is mauve again, a colour that makes me feel like something good is going to happen. Sage tells me about the Christmas lights they have on the shop walls in December. I'm mesmerised by the silhouettes of the trees and the pink glow of the field of cylinder hay bales. Like living in a painting. It doesn't feel like we're outside. I point out to the sage that the brilliant point of light over the hill is the planet Venus.
"No he says, "it's moving".
"No I say "It is Venus, and it's us that's moving. You can see it from your living room window every evening just now, and Mars is above the house when you can see the moon out of the skylight in my room".
"Well we'll see".
He's infuriating. A man in the making.
We get to his house and I say, "See it is Venus, look it hasn't moved".
"No, that's not the same one, the other one was probably a plane".
"No it wasn't, I've been watching it the whole way.
"But it might not be. Did you ever think of that happening in life? That you could be wrong?
A man in the making.